


Mrs. Hudson's Secret

by poppetawoppet



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-23
Updated: 2011-03-23
Packaged: 2018-04-19 20:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4759703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppetawoppet/pseuds/poppetawoppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>originally posted for thegameison_sh cycle two, round 3: Older/Younger, 2nd place finisher for the round!</p><p>Mrs. Hudson has a secret child</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mrs. Hudson's Secret

She wasn't raised to believe in abortions. She has nothing against them, and she's considered it many times, considering her age. But when it comes down to it, she's never had a child, and even knowing that she won't keep this one, she cannot help but know that she would do everything to protect it.

She makes the stipulations that she must know the parents. She must have photos. She has no right to make such demands, but she is fortunate to find people who promise to do those very things for her. 

She briefly considers keeping the baby, but then she remembers her husband. She remembers the kind of man she has married.

She tells him she's going away to have an abortion and to make sure this never happens again. She gets him to sign papers for the adoption without him knowing. It's the one thing she has slipped by him.

So she travels before she starts to show. It's the first time in years she's been alone. It's like a mini-holiday, except none of her clothes fit and she's constantly ill. The doctor checks, and everything is fine though.

The birth itself is nothing she wishes to remember, and everything she hopes she doesn't forget. He's a small quiet child, and she names him James, after her grandfather. 

She gets him for a whole week. She talks to him mostly, trying to tell him everything she wants to say for a lifetime.

She doesn't cry when his parents pick him up. Neither does he. 

"Be brave," she whispers. "Be good."

They send pictures, and brief letters. She hides them behind the flour, because the kitchen is the one place she knows her husband will not go. 

He turns into a bright child. Smart, for his age. Advanced, they say.

She almost cries in joy, but she holds back, for fear that her husband will see.

She knows most people would have divorced by now, walked out of the door. But she made a promise before God, and looking into her son's eyes, she remembers every reason she married him in the first place. She takes care of other children, taking in boarders for money. She mothers them as much as she can, hoping one day she can mother her own son.

The first time he finds her, he is sixteen. Brooding and moody and perfect. She turns him away at the door.

"You can't be here," she says, and closes the door before she pulls him in and never lets him go.

It's like that for many years, brief encounters that frighten and delight her. He grows tall and thin, her James, silent and strange.

When her husband is finally caught in a misdeed, they have tea.

He asks her why, and she tells him. He nods and thanks her, saying that his parents were good to him. Gave him the finest education possible.

"What's going to happen to my father?"

"I don't know," she says. "And I don't care."

"I see," he says, and no more.

He shakes her hand and kisses her cheek before leaving.

There's a bit of sadness and regret, because she loves him, but only in that way you love a distant relative. The phone rings.

"This is she," she says. "I'm sorry, you what? You have evidence that could convict my husband? Who is this? You're at the door?"

She opens the door, and it's another tall, brooding young man. She's not sure if her heart can take it.

"Mrs. Hudson?" 

"Yes?" 

The man holds out his hand. "Sherlock Holmes. I was just on the phone with you."

"Oh."

Later, she'll realize she still sees James on the corner, watching her carefully. Later she'll understand why this Moriarty is so focused on Sherlock. She doesn't blame him.

But in the moment, he's just another boy, just another lost soul.


End file.
